Tuesday, February 21, 2012

the sun is in the sky...

Amgen. 2011.

"the sun is in the sky why oh why would I want to be anywhere else?" - Lily Allen.

It’s a fine day.

A day for dreaming with your eyes wide open. Looking out open windows. Windows that let in the cool breeze. Or dancing beneath the bright golden sunlight. Sunlight that sends a millions of tiny particles to your skin as it soaks in the light. Riding through the streets on a bike. A bike that tell stories while you peddle through watching people. People with something to say and nothing but actions to tell it.

Through the streets.

There’s a man crossing the street. And woman three feet ahead of him that stops mid walk sets down her bags to pull up her stocking. He’s stopping to help the woman with her bags mid walkway only to snatch away her purse as they reach the other side of the walk. Then there he is running. Almost knocking me over as I pass through. She’s screaming about her sack and dropping the bags again. The three policemen standing in front of the man missing the point step aside and the chase never begins. 

There’s no one to stop the thief and the screaming woman can’t keep up her stockings. Yet there’s a hope in the way of a child with a broken shoelace and a careless place for a scooter. Turning the corner with the fervor and speed of a moving train the man fumbles upon the scooter losing the sack and the contents to the curb. Someone else can see this now… I’m leaving before the story is finished.

Through the park.

The path in the park is littered with runners and joggers mashed up between riders like me. They don’t have a clue what the world sounds like outside of their plugs. The music, the words, the audiobooks, and the foreign languages to be learned keeping their minds rapt. Avoiding eye contact and moving faster and faster. Ignoring the breathing. Ignoring the staring man next to you with the sign that exclaims his pan-handling gig in less than a phrase: ‘Homeless. Hungry. Help.’ Anyone who isn’t looking please pay attention.

There’s a man laying under the bright sun and upon vibrant grass having a picnic with his girl. Passionate conversation with heated stares and lovely hand gestures. When he’s attentively reaching over to touch her face it presents quite a scene. Cause instead of gentle touch it’s a forceful slap and a mouth of explicative’s in place of warm nothings. Closer to the show and the view becomes clearer that she’s a tart and he’s a thug trying to get his money. The picnic is a fix and they're talking business with a rough hand. But someone is watching and when a man comes up to intercede the thug changes his mind about the tart. The tart runs away with her fat lip and bloody nose. The man pounds the thug’s face into the cement blocks that line the perimeter of the park. There’s more to see in the park…

A Frisbee gets loose and instead of fetch there’s a dog that bites a Falaphel vendor. Another small child trips another person. This time it’s a bike not a scooter and there’s no one to watch. A group of kids are standing around singing to the tune at the musical fountain while the summertime sun keeps it warm enough for other kids to play inside. The song isn’t something I’ve heard before, but it’s happy and loud enough for the movement of the water to synch to as the kids make up their own words. Taking five and listening while the spray hits my face and the kids keep dancing. This sounds a little like Mozart’s fifth with a disco beat. But the kids keep dancing.

Through the alleys.

West of my apartment the streets look like a maze. The chances of getting hit by a car run high. The alleys are mixed and less complicated than the main drag. Faster past me move the bike messengers, the delivery boys, and the Lance Armstrong wanna-be’s. Until I make my turn through the winding backways. Twists and turns that lead me back around to the main and back out of it. Riding beneath the open windows and fair daylight. The skies are a bright shade of light that illuminates the world as people keep leaving their buildings for walks.

Coming up quick there’s sitations to react to and nothing to stop me from moving. Cars back out and vans keep unloading and loading. Zip. Zip. Through the beautiful day. Behind the restaurants there’s trash that gets tossed out. Behind tiny apartments there’s laundry hanging through these corners. Turning a corner I make a sigh and see a pair of men yelling. They could be friends yet they are not. A man is getting mugged by another with a knife who can not see me approach. I smile and I throw an elbow to knock aside the unknowing assailant. Freeing the man without a knife who laughs and runs with his wallet.


Jumping ropes. Eating popsicles. Sitting at the doorstops. A broken fire hydrant provides a much needed relief from the heat as I pass through the light end of the stream. The neighbors are happy and seeking some cool. Most of the neighbors are without AC and the only release is outside in the fine day. The breeze against my skin is welcoming aside from the heat. The Paleta man is giving away free ice cream’s cause his cooler is busted. I slow to grab a fruit bar and a handful of ice before heading to my place. Back to my daydream with my open windows and doors that look over the neighborhood on the life that the tells a thousand stories without words.

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